


An Array of Firsts

by christinalyn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-24
Updated: 2014-09-24
Packaged: 2018-02-18 14:56:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2352425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/christinalyn/pseuds/christinalyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of firsts for the Winchester Boys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Array of Firsts

**Author's Note:**

> First chapter takes place during the episode "Playthings".

“You’re bossy….and short,” Sam said, slumping in his chair.

Dean was confused at first then the realization soaked through his body as he glanced over at the empty alcohol bottles. Dammit. “Are you drunk?”

“Yeah. So? Stupid.”

His jaw clenched. Who was the stupid one? “What are you thinking? We’re working a case.” It had been a long, hard, confusing day, but even Dean knew not to drink at a time like this. It wasn’t going to help right now. In fact, it was likely detrimental.

“The guy who hung himself. I couldn’t save him.”

“What are you talking about? You didn’t know. You couldn’t have done anything.”

“That’s an excuse, Dean. I should have found a way to save him.”

“Yeah, well you can’t save everyone. Even you said that.”

“No, you don’t understand, alright? The more people I save, the more I can change.” There was a surprising air of desperation in his voice that Dean hadn’t heard in a long time.

“Change what?”

“My destiny, Dean!” Sam was getting near hysterical and Dean’s heart dropped low in his stomach. He needed to get his little brother to bed so he could sleep it off. That was really the only thing he could think to do right now. 

“Alright, time for bed. Come on, Sasquatch.” He picked him up out of the chair and backed him toward the bed.

“I need you to watch out for me.” Dean gave an exasperated sigh. He’d been hearing that since he was six. _Take care of Sammy. Watch out for Sammy. Keep Sammy safe._

“I know. I always do,” he said shortly as he tried to push Sam toward the bed. It proved to be a struggle as Sam kept babbling on and pushed his body weight against Dean’s shoved hands.

“No, no, no. You have to _watch out_ for me, alright? And if I ever turn into something that I’m not, you have to kill me.” His words slurred and tears welled in his eyes.

“Sam…” He rolled his eyes and pushed him back. He was sick of this same conversation over and over again.

“Dean, Dad told you to do it. You have to.”

No, he didn’t have to do anything about it. He didn’t have to do everything their father told him. …his father was dead now. “Well, dad’s an ass. He never should have said anything. I mean, you don’t do that. You don’t lay that crap on your kids.”

He really wished that his little brother would stop with the talk of his destiny. It was almost an insult to their relationship that Sammy would even think that Dean wouldn’t (and couldn’t) stop him from going dark. Nothing was going to happen to the younger Winchester - not if Dean had anything to say or do about it.

“No, he was right to say it. Who knows what I might become. Even now everyone around me dies!”

“Well, I’m not dying, okay? And neither are you. Come on…” He shoved him down to the bed but Sam grabbed his jacket sleeve.

“No, please, Dean you’re the only that can it. Promise.”

“Don’t ask that of me.”

“Dean, please. You have to promise me.” He looked desperate as those eyes of his begged and pleaded.

Dean’s heart raced. How could Sam expect something like that? How could he even consider asking that of his brother. He tried to say no, but Sam became more and more agitated as he clawed at Dean. “I promise.” The words poured out and his only comfort was that he wasn’t bound to keep his word, neither by magic or law. There was nothing that Sam could do, say or become that would make Dean kill him. There was enough blood on his hands without adding that of his brother’s…his sweet, doe-eyed, bitch of a brother.

“Thanks. _Thank you_.”

He shoved Sam off with a disgust washing over him. The misguided appreciation of the younger was sick. Sam fell back a bit but sat right back up, cupping his face. “Dean, thank you…thank you…” He leaned up and took claim of Dean’s lips with his own. It might have been normal-…no, not normal but...less crazy if Sam had only pecked him but the firm kiss held fast as moments passed. Dean finally pulled away, trying to ignore the tingling feeling setting into his own lips as he dodged the pair belonging to Sam.

“Dude, what the fuck are you doing?” His voice was soft despite the profanity and pure confusion.

Sam gripped his face harder, trying to draw his brother in for another. “Showing gratitude. Sealing the deal…binding the promise...”

Dean frowned. “First off, that doesn’t make a lick of sense and second of all, you’re my brother and this isn’t Flowers in the A-“ Sam cut him off with another kiss. This time the shock was diluted and Dean could taste an array of liquors on his lips.

“No smart ass comments.” Whisky. “No talking too much.” Vodka. “No being a-“ Gin. Dean found himself claiming this kiss for his own as their lips crashed and moved against one another’s. Sam pulled him down on the bed so Dean awkwardly stumbled on top of his body, creating a mess of limbs. Sam’s lips parted and Dean’s tongue went on overdrive, exploring his brother’s mouth. Somewhere in the mess Dean lost his jacket; his brother had somehow snuck it off of him. Dean’s hand went to his shaggy hair and gripped onto the floppy locks as though afraid that the man would disappear if he let go. The lust inside of him was like a demonic possession. It was wrong, misguided, evil but still…felt so right. Why? Why did it feel right? Sam moaned into his mouth and fireworks burst inside of Dean’s body. He slid between Sam’s legs and their hips moved together until Sam slowed and came to a halt. The kiss melted away as Sam’s lips became immobile. Dean frowned and pulled away.

“Sam?” Nothing came from him but a snore. “Sammy?” Passed out. The kid had actually passed out drunk. He pulled off of him and stood. With a shaky breath, Dean pulled the blanket over him and smoothed his hair from his shut eyes. Mr. Calm, Cool and Collected…Casanova…Playboy…he was at a loss over a kiss. Anyone in their right mind knew that the kiss was really, really wrong. Freud would have had a field day. With a sigh, the elder Winchester sat on his own bed and scrubbed his hands over his face. Sam would never remember in the morning anyway. “Alright, Sammy,” he said quietly. “I said I promise but…I don’t promise to kill you. I promise to protect you and keep you pure. I’ll watch out for you…like always.” He laid on his own bed and closed his eyes, but no amount of darkness or immobility could erase the lingering feeling of Sam’s lips on his own.


End file.
